Starlight
by Destiny Rain Evans
Summary: Apocalypse rules above the planet with the other Royals. Charles fights to live below. When Raven steals an invitation for him, Charles eagerly attends Apocaylse's masquerade, intent on finding the truth about who the Royals really are and what makes them so much better. Instead, he meets Erik, a Royal with a mind of steel, unchecked power, and a fierce desire to make Charles his.
1. Erik Ruins Everything

All Charles had wanted to do was see the Royals.

Raven had gotten him an invitation somehow. Apocalypse, destroyer of worlds, was holding a masquerade. Charles had wanted to feel their minds against his, to see how those more privileged than him moved, and thought, and felt.

He'd stolen the clothes from a room carelessly left unlocked. Raven had altered them to fit him in a small, hidden closet. She had promised him no one would miss them, and with the number of clothes left in the closet, he had believed it. She used her own powers to disguise herself, assuming the image of a delicate creature of blond hair and sapphire eyes, dressed in a green-blue cloth that shone like the feathers of a peacock.

Charles could barely conceive of the colors and sounds that assaulted his eyes as he walked through the ballroom. Even his clothes overwhelmed his senses. Their touch was uncanny, the cloth as foreign to his skin as the unnamable foods the servants whisked past the dancing figures. He reached out with his mind, brushing against those who were nearest to him. He felt greed, fear, loathing, the same as those on the surface of the planet. His thoughts met iron and he stopped. It moved beneath his touch, never letting him stray past it.

"And who are you?"

He turned, forcing a smile, "Charles. Charles Xavier. I'm a royal from Alorien." A believable lie, if the minds around him told the truth.

The man smiled, his face hidden behind a black metal mask, "Charles…" His name was a purr, "A strange name for a creature from Alorien, and a stranger look," The Royal reached up, peeling his mask from his face. Charles' breath caught. The man was perhaps the most beautiful he had ever seen. "I was told the Alorien natives were blue."

Charles swallowed, caught in his lie. Those around him had never seen an Alorien and knew nothing about the natives there, and this man's mind was as impenetrable as a steel wall. "I am not a native. My parents were immigrants—"

"Charles," The man tisked, "don't lie. Take whoever gave you those clothes and leave before I change my mind." He leaned forward, his eyes flicking to the throne at the end of the room, "You would do well to go quickly. I shouldn't have to tell you what would happen if Apocalypse found you. Should I give you a hint?" He held out his hand. Charles cried out in pain, cupping his hands to his temple. He could feel Raven's pain, a metal knife falling from her hand, a stray thought escaping her mind. Was she trying to kill Apocalypse? She'd used Charles' promise to stay out of her mind against him. Raven knew he would protect her, even when he knew she had used him. But against this Royal with a mind of steel, he was helpless.

"Assassins aren't welcome here either," The Royal dragged her forward by the necklace around her throat with only a flick of his hand. The partygoers didn't seem to notice, their attention ensnared by some new form of entertainment that had moved into the middle of the room. Raven choked in pain, the skin of her neck turning blue.

"Stop it," Charles seized the Royal's arm. A name slipped from behind the wall, _Erik_. "Erik stop, please."

"You didn't know she was here to kill him." The Royal tilted his head to the side, his eyes glittering in the light. Raven's neck snapped, her body going limp, "Maybe I won't introduce you to Apocalypse just yet."


	2. Erik is Grateful for Telepathic Immunity

**_A/N:_** ** _Here is chapter two. As always, let me know if you see any errors like Erik growing an extra hand or something XD or if you see something you really like._**

Erik led Charles from the room, leaving Raven's body to be cleaned up by blank-faced servants with even blander thoughts. There was no surprise in their minds. Apparently, the Royals killed regularly, making this not even the first body of the day.

In any other case, Charles would have taken the time to admire the dark blue hangings over the windows, the beautiful stone inlays of the walls, or even perhaps the colorful flowers that were placed every five feet and smelled like the Westchester gardens before War had done his work and Apocalypse had come to rule. All of it slipped by him without a second thought. Charles could feel the grief building in his chest, dark, terrible, and threatening to overwhelm him with every step away from Raven's body. He fought it off as best he could, focusing on Erik. Erik, the Royal who had killed Charles' sister like it was nothing and was now taking Charles to who knew what fate.

Erik stopped outside twin metal doors, inlaid with twining, shimmering metals that glowed in the light of the lamps above them. He waved his hand and they parted, revealing a lavish chamber. Perhaps, compared to the other Royal's rooms, it was not so lavish, but to Charles, who had celebrated the find of running water in one of the houses he and Raven had hidden in, everything in it was an unspeakable luxury.

"Do you drink wine?" Erik walked inside, picking up a metal decanter. Most things in the room were metal, Charles noted. They were different types and shapes and colors, but all doubtless could be formed into a weapon in an instant under Erik's power. Charles settled on a soft velvet divan, barely registering the cup that floated into his hand.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Erik poured wine into his cup, "I don't know yet. The possibilities really are endless…" His purr sent Charles' hair on end, "You come with an assassin, but are not one. You are not a Royal, but even I can feel your power. You are breakable, like her, but I don't find myself wanting to break you just yet." He summoned a chair to his side, sprawling lazily into it. "The Others, the surface dwellers," He said it with such disdain it made Charles' skin crawl, "are nothing. Your life is nothing. But," He paused, running his thumb over the edge of his cup, "Your power is not nothing, it would gain me great favor with Apocalypse." He tilted his head to better watch the shiver that ran down Charles' spine, "But I already have great favor with Apocalypse."

Charles looked down at the wine in his hand, "Or you could send me home."

"I could," Erik agreed, "but that, I think, I won't do."

"Please," Charles looked up, "Please, Erik—"

Erik shivered. It was only the slight flicker of an eye, but Charles saw it. "Did you take it from my mind? That name."

"I can't see into your mind. It just slipped out," Charles considered taking a sip of the wine. It might be the last thing he'd ever have to drink and made a better last supper than the stale crackers he'd wolfed down for breakfast.

"I see," Erik played with the silver ring on his finger, pressing it against his lips, "Why did you come here, if not to kill Apocalypse like your…friend?"

Charles gave in and drank a mouthful of wine. It was delicious, of course, the Royals tolerated nothing that wasn't perfect. It was both sweet and bitter all at the same time, and he savored it on his tongue before answering. "I wanted to see what the Royals were really like."

Erik's lips curved in a sadistic smile, leaving Charles with the feeling he did not hold much fondness for the other Royals, "And are you appeased?"

"More than enough," Charles downed the rest of the glass, "So, are you going to kill me, or keep asking me inane questions all day?" Perhaps it was the wine that gave him the courage to ask it, but more likely it was the grief Charles could feel battering against his mind, threatening to drag him into its murky depths and befuddling his mind so he could not tell courage from recklessness.

Erik's smile lessened slightly, the cup flying from Charles' hands to float in the air. "There is a bath in the next room. Do you know how to use it?" He answered Charles' glare with a laugh, "Good. I'll have the servants fetch you some clothes. I'm afraid your foray into our world isn't quite over yet." Erik flicked his fingers, the double doors at the other end of the room opening, "If you survive it, perhaps I'll return you to your planet."

Charles may not have been able to read Erik's mind, but as Erik's smile widened they both knew it was a lie.

 ** _A/N: dun Dun DUNNNNN! What's going to happen now? What do you think should happen? Drop me a comment and let me know :D._**


	3. Erik Plots On How to Keep Charles Safe

_**A/N:**_ ** _This was a very difficult chapter to write. I tried to make it a bit longer than the others. If you notice anything odd, please feel free to point it out to me as I've read over it so many times the words have started to sound like nonsense XD._**

Raven had once found an old copy of Harry Potter in the trash heaps around their stolen house. The DVD had been battered and scratched, and they had only been able to watch a few small sections of it. In one of them, Harry had snuck into an ornate bathroom with a screaming golden egg. The bathtub had sprayed colorful soaps and perfumes into the water and had been bigger than any Charles had seen before. He and Raven had simultaneously agreed that should the world ever return to normal, and if they could afford it, they would invest in a bath like it.

Erik's was larger and far more opulent.

Jars ranged the bathtub, releasing subtle fragrances into the air. The nozzle Charles hoped would turn the water on instead turned on six different jets inside the tub, releasing a rainbow of liquids. Some merged together, staining the surface a dark blue. Others slid across it like bubbles of oil, reflecting a myriad of flickering colors across the walls of the room. Charles undressed quickly, slipping into the water, or whatever it was. The heat eased the chill sunk deep into his bones, relaxing his muscles and abating the chaos in his mind just enough that he could think.

Raven was dead.

The swell of grief threatened to overwhelm him. He shoved it down, building a wall between him and the thought. He promised himself he would deal with it later when his life didn't depend on his sanity.

He swam from one end of the pool to the other, opening the various jars, hoping for soap or shampoo. In the end, he settled for scrubbing his body as best he could with only the water. He didn't want to lose all the hair on his body because he accidentally picked up the wrong bottle and thought it was shampoo.

"Think Xavier." He scrubbed his hands through his hair. Erik was in the next room, a Royal who could do anything to him anytime he wanted, least of all turn him over as a telepath to Apocalypse who desired that power more than anything else. Charles had no way inside Erik's mind, no way to manipulate or read him. Not yet at least.

A knock came at the door, a servant coming in with an armful of clothes, "Change."

Charles hesitated, "Could you leave while I—"

"No."

He sighed, getting out of the water. As soon as his feet touched the mat, a warm current tingled across his skin, drying his body instantly. Was there anything Royal's did like normal people? He took the clothes from the servant, "Thank you."

The servant blinked at him, saying nothing.

The clothes were thankfully more normal than those he had left on the floor. They consisted of a white shirt and long white cotton pants, the same as those of the servant who stood and watched with blank eyes and lethargic thoughts. Charles finished dressing quickly, grateful that the servant's thoughts didn't seem to notice his emaciated body. He ran his hands over the soft shirt, glancing up. The servant opened the door, gesturing through it.

Erik stood in front of long glass windows, staring out into space. He dismissed the servant with a flick of his fingers. Charles stepped into the room, his eyes falling to a red helmet on the table.

"You're not—" Charles picked it up, "You're not…War, are you?"

Erik glanced at him, then back at the windows.

Charles' hands trembled as he put down the helmet, blood rushing in his ears. Erik was War, the one responsible for the devastation of Earth. The one who had ripped the ground from the earth and the skyscrapers from the sky, sending it through flesh and bone with little thought until nothing was left. He was Apocalypse's Grim Reaper, and every human knew the helmet as a symbol of death.

"Don't worry, Charles." Erik pressed his ring to his lips, glancing at him. "I won't hurt you. Not yet."

Charles bit down on his hysteria, setting the helmet down. Erik looked back out at the planet below them, "There's another bedroom down the hall. You're to stay there. If you try and leave, you will be stopped, and it will not be pleasant." Erik glanced at him, "Goodnight, Charles."

 _Charles stood in front of the mirror, smoothing his hand down his shirt. Raven patted his shoulder, "You look fine, Charles. Besides, no amount of fussing on your part is going to make you look any less like a stuffy professor."_

 _"Thank you for that," Charles laughed, glancing at the gardens outside. Westchester was beautiful this time of year. The flowers were in bloom, their sweet and sharp scents blowing in through the window. The trees were constantly ruffled from the slight summer breeze that blew in, providing a welcome respite from the heat._

 _The ground rumbled beneath his feet, the toothbrush and comb rattling on the counter._

 _"What's going on?" Charles caught himself on the sink, struggling to keep his feet as the floor bucked and writhed. "An Earthquake?"_

 _"They failed." Raven's cheek flushed pale, "We need to leave, Charles, now." She seized his hand, dragging him from the room and down the stairs. Metal pipes ripped from the walls, spilling water and other unpleasant things into the air. Charles stumbled behind her, a flying metal comb catching his pants and ripping through them. Raven dragged him forward heedlessly, out through the doors into the garden. Charles could only stare in shock. Metal ripped itself from the house and the ground around it. Not far from them, the nuclear bunker tore up through the grass. It rose into the sky, following the long lines of metal that met in a destination far from where they were._

 _"Raven—" Charles turned to look at her._

 _"They must have failed," She swayed slightly._

 _"Who? Who failed?" Charles grabbed her shoulder, "Raven?"_

 _She closed her eyes, a drop of blood running down her cheek, "I thought you could protect me."_

 _Something wet touched Charles' face. He touched it, then looked at his finger. Blood. He looked up as more red drops fell from the metal in the sky. He could see bodies impaled on some of the bigger pieces, supposedly the source of the bloody rain. Nothing had stopped the metal from reaching its source. He looked back at Raven, but she was gone._

Charles' eyes flew open. He sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair and over his face. The dream was foolish, a twist on truth. Raven had certainly never known anyone who had tried to stop Apocalypse. No one had known War would devastate the earth. After he had done his work, Raven and Charles had picked through what was left of their house and lived there until bandits came, then they'd moved on to the bigger cities, trying to find a way to live.

Charles slipped from the bed, looking around the room Erik had given him. It was large, but most of the room was taken up by a massive four poster bed and two ebony nightstands. There was a separate bathroom off to the side, with a bathroom that was even bigger than the one in the living room, which Charles had to assume was meant for guests or strangers. Royals were ridiculous in their opulence. He got to his feet, walking to the window. Below the ship, he could see the ruined mess of Earth, greener than it had ever been, but mostly dark during in the night. He reached up, closing the drapes. He had to find a way back to the surface, away from Erik and whatever nefarious plans he had in wait for Charles.

A soft knock came at the door, "Master Lensherr requests your presence in the dining room."

"I'm coming." Charles ran his fingers through his hair, glancing into the mirror. He grabbed the clothes Erik had given him, still folded and where Charles had left them. He pulled them on quickly, running his tongue over his teeth. There didn't seem to be any toothbrush, and he doubted he had time to bathe, so he rinsed his mouth and face with water. The servant was waiting patiently outside when he stepped out. His thoughts were louder than the other servants', less lethargic. They rang through Charles' mind with clarity. _Poor guy, Lensherr will probably kill him before the week is out._ The servant blinked blandly at him, "Right this way, sir."

"Charles is fine," Charles followed him down the hallway, "What's your name?"

"Hank," The servant replied, _Beast_ , said his mind. Curious, what kind of name was Beast?

"Lovely to meet you," Charles paused as Hank opened the door to the dining room.

 _I'm not going to help you escape if that's what you want from me._ Hank forced a smile, "Master Lensherr is waiting in here."

Charles stepped into the room, immediately aware of Erik's eyes on him. He may not have been able to read the Royal's mind, but Erik's presence was impossible to mask. The room had a long, ebony table at which Erik sat. An electric fire roared behind him, basking the room in warmth. The walls were lined, top to bottom, with books. Charles itched to get his hands on them but didn't quite dare to explore.

"Sit," Erik gestured to the seat to his right. It already had a covered meal before it. His own meal was already halfway finished.

Charles made his way over to the seat, ignoring Erik's eyes on him. He removed the cover, his stomach twisting with hunger.

"Do you eat like this every day?" Charles couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. Erik didn't reply. The plate was decadent: potatoes with rosemary and thyme, steak oozing juice, butter fried vegetables. If this wasn't so obviously hell, Charles would have wondered if Erik had killed him as well as Raven, and he'd gone to heaven. He tucked into the food, clearing the plate before Erik finished what was left of his. A servant took the plate away as he sopped up the juice, replacing it with a bowl of ice cream. Charles dug into that too.

"Soon you will grow used to it," Erik cut into his steak. Charles tried to ignore the blood that pooled under his knife.

 _ **A/N:**_ ** _Aaaand there we go! What do you think is going to happen next? What is Apocalypse going to do once he finds out about Charles? What was going on with Charles' weird dream? Until next time!_**


	4. Erik Sees An Old Enemy and Slips Up

_**A/N:**_ ** _Hey, sorry for being gone so long. As always, I've read for errors but if Erik suddenly turns into a non-asshole, or Charles suddenly grows an extra leg, let me know XD._**

"Charles. Come out. You're coming with me."

Charles opened his door. Erik arched an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against his arm. Charles scrubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to erase the exhaustion from them, "What do you want, Erik?"

Erik frowned, "Were you sleeping?"

"Not much else to do here," Charles sighed. Sleeping was a loose term for it. He'd been having more nightmares about Raven. There was always blood. She always died. "Where are we going?"

"To the surface."

Charles straightened, his mind whirring. Did Erik want to take him back? Was this a test? "The surface?"

"Yes," The corners of Erik's lips twitched upward, "to see a friend."

"A friend?" Charles rocked back on his feet, apprehension building in his chest. "What kind of friend?"

"A scientist," Erik gestured for Charles to follow him. A red mutant stood in the middle of the living room, his tail flicking back and forth irritably. He greeted them with a now of his head. He was not dressed in the elegant silks and gems of a Royal, but neither did he look like an Other. Erik held out his hand. "Azazel. Take us to the surface. I want to speak with Shaw."

The red mutant nodded, taking Erik's hand. Charles started, stepping back involuntarily. How was this mutant going to get them from the ship to the surface? Erik's hand closed around his arm, squeezing tightly. Charles' world turned inside out.

Charles opened his eyes to the familiar ruined landscape of the surface. The rubble of a skyscraper encircled them, all black glass and rotten plaster. His stomach turned with nausea. Azazel bowed to Erik, vanishing in a puff of red smoke. If Charles didn't feel so nauseous, he would be fascinated. Instead, he turned his attention to the piles of rubble around them. The black glass looked familiar, as did the trees Charles could see on the skyline. They weren't too far from the house he and Raven had commandeered. His heart twisted at the thought.

"Erik," A man emerged from a hole in the rubble, his eyes flicking between them, "how lovely to see you."

Erik raised his chin, "Shaw. I take it you got my message."

Shaw's eyes drifted behind Erik, "Charles Xavier. A pleasure."

"How do you know me?" Charles glanced at Erik warily, "And who are you?"

"I saw you on the television." Shaw smiled unpleasantly, ignoring Erik's acidic glare, "Before Erik, of course."

Charles' head began to throb. Why had Erik brought him here?

Erik glanced back at him, his face expressionless, "I'm here for the tag."

"Of course," Shaw gestured them forward.

"Erik doesn't like to come here," Shaw called as they followed him into the hole in the rubble. The path sloped down into a cave made of crushed glass and memorabilia. Torn portraits, cell phones, laptops, broken pots. It was like looking at the remnants of long-forgotten lives. Shaw unlocked a door fitted to the rubble around it, swinging it open. "Not much metal left in this area."

"Enough to kill you," Erik growled, keeping an eye on Charles.

Charles' eyes widened as he saw Shaw's laboratory. Some of the machines he knew, like microscopes and, dear god, a working computer, but others he'd never seen before. All looked delicate and carefully calibrated, Erik's work no doubt, whether through his own powers or the obscene amount of money he no doubt possessed.

Shaw picked up what looked like a vaccination syringe, "Charles, come here."

"Dr. Xavier," Charles corrected him coldly, "and what is that?"

Erik's hand closed around his wrist, "Do it."

"Do what?" Charles caught Shaw's unpleasant smile. He thrashed in Erik's grasp, trying to get away from Shaw and whatever horrible thing he had in that syringe. Erik tightened his grip, locking his arm around Charles' chest. Shaw walked forward, the syringe in his hand and a pleased expression on his face. He stuck the needle into Charles' arm, injecting something deep under his skin. "What was that?" Charles stilled, his heart hammering against his chest. If Erik was going to turn him into some three-headed mutant test experiment—

"A tracker," Erik released him, "a harmless metal bar inserted deep under the skin, deep enough that you won't be able to cut it out. Not while living, that is." He caught Charles' glare and his lips twitched upward. "It's unique enough I'll be able to find you anywhere."

Charles wiped at the line of blood running down his arm, "Wonderful."

Erik smiled thinly, "Continue working, Shaw. Apocalypse needs his weapons."

Shaw inclined his head, "Of course, Erik."

Charles' gaze caught on a microscope. Pain forgotten, he walked over to it, peering into the eye hole.

"This is fascinating," He adjusted the view, "I've never seen genes sequenced like this before." He glanced up, meeting Erik's gaze. The Royal tilted his head to the side, amusement clear in his eyes.

"What?" Charles asked sharply, "I know more about genetics than you could ever hope to. I got a doctorate, and was going to be a professor before you destroyed my home."

Erik's amusement vanished. He glanced sharply at Shaw, "Be done soon. Apocalypse loses patience." He grabbed Charles' arm, dragging him from the cave.

"But…" Charles glanced back longingly, "The genes…"

Erik dragged him outside, pulling him close as Azazel appeared, "Take us back."

Azazel nodded, holding his hand out for Erik. Charles felt his insides turn out, and his heart skipped a beat with terror as he opened his eyes and saw the familiar spread of space, tinted with the blue light of earth, beneath him.

He hissed in pain, cupping his hand against his head. The headache that had begun when he'd seen Shaw spiked. He stumbled back, tripping over the carpet. Hard hands caught him, lowering him to the ground.

"Charles?" Erik murmured, "Charles? Are you alright."

"My head," Charles groaned in pain, covering his eyes with his hands to try and block out the light. His breath came out ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Erik sighed, sinking to the floor. He pulled Charles against him, rocking slightly as if to calm a baby, "You're having a panic attack." His voice was neutral, commanding, "Focus on my voice. I'm not going to hurt you. Apocalypse isn't going to hurt you." He ran his fingers through Charles' hair, "You are safer with me now than you ever were on Earth."

Erik waited patiently with Charles until his breathing began to normalize, his headache abating somewhat. Charles didn't dare push him away, but Erik seemed to get the message and released him when the worst was over. Charles watched him get to his feet.

"You're to attend the gala tonight with me," Erik straightened his jacket, "I'll have some acceptable clothes brought to your rooms. Now that you have the tracker, you're free to wander my quarters." He walked away, leaving Charles sitting on the floor as if none of that had ever happened.

 _ **A/N:**_ ** _So that's that. Let me know if you liked it or not! Is Erik hiding something? What the hell is Shaw doing in there? Erik showing an emotion that's not asshole? IS HE DYING?_**

 ** _THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO FAVORITES AND FOLLOWS! Honestly, you guys are THE BEST and give me the motivation to keep doing this. I hope you are having a wonderful New Year!_**


	5. Things Did Not Go According to Plan

_What the hell was that?_ Charles got to his feet, brushing off his clothes. At least his headache seemed to have abated with the panic that had been trying to claw its way up his chest. He hadn't expected Erik, mass murderer and destroyer of worlds, to be able to comfort him. Perhaps after being starved of touch for so long, any physical contact would have done the job. Charles shook off the thought, disturbed that his body might betray him to someone like _Erik_. Touch-starved or no, it would be best to keep as wide a distance as possible between Erik and himself.

Charles set about exploring Erik's rooms, keen on distracting himself. There was the living room, the bathroom off to the side with an adjacent guest bedroom, and two hallways leading off either side of the main door. One, he knew, led to his bedroom, lots of doors, and the dining room. Erik had gone down that one, so Charles opted for the opposite hallway.

A few feet in, the hallway wall to his right melted into a railing. Past it, Charles could see a large room with a wall completely made of glass. A stairwell led from where he stood down into the room, made of the same stone-like, black material as the rest of Apocalypse's infernal spaceship. In the middle of the room was a large, lavish pool lit from the bottom by sparkling crystal lights. It was something Raven would have adored. At Westchester, she'd always been in the pool rain or shine, cajoling and bullying him into joining her. Charles averted his eyes, slamming the door shut on that particular rabbit hole of pain. He continued down the hallway, putting the pool from his mind before it could bring back more memories of what he could no longer have.

There were two more bedrooms, what Charles could only assume was an exercise room, and a library almost as big as the one he'd had back at Westchester. It was in the latter that Erik found him a few hours later, his face buried in a book.

Charles glanced up, examining the Royal. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face expressionless. He was resplendent in black silks, the collar and sleeves of his shirt decorated with silver embroidery. They made him look…out of place. As if a master painter had painted over the art of another master. He was beautiful but…wrong.

Hank cleared his throat, dropping into a slight bow, "I've brought you clothes."

Charles started, he hadn't even realized Hank was standing next to Erik, "Clothes?"

"For the gala," Erik gestured for Hank to put the clothes down next to Charles, "the servant will see to your makeup."

"Makeup?" It came out as more of a squeak than Charles was comfortable with.

Erik's lips twitched upward, "Unless you'd prefer a mask?"

Charles cleared his throat. He'd once allowed Raven to put makeup on his face out of curiosity and had promptly smeared it everywhere. Honestly, he didn't know how she wore it every day.

"The mask will be fine," He put his book down.

Erik nodded, turning back down the hallway.

"You'll need my help to dress," Hank gestured for Charles' to take his clothes off, "we don't have time to go back to your rooms in any case."

Charles grimaced, pulling off his shirt, "Do I have to?"

Hank pressed his lips together, a smile curving the corners, "Yes, sire." He picked up what looked suspiciously like a tunic, "Strip, please."

A cello was playing somewhere. Charles glanced around the ballroom, his eyes landing on the place Raven had died. The vision of Raven lying there, her body being taken away by blank servants with even blanker thoughts, was seared into his mind.

"So, you are Erik's new pet."

Charles' stiffened, his eyes flicking up. Apocalypse watched him, an unnamable and terrifying emotion in his eyes. His presence was like an attack on Charles' senses. His mind recoiled at the ancient, hungry touch of Apocalypse' thoughts. He reinforced the shields around his mind, dropping into a deep bow.

"Charles." Charles' heart lurched in his chest as he felt the brush of fingers against the back of his head, "My children do not have to bow to me." The hand retreated, leaving Charles' skin crawling. He straightened, eyes downcast.

"My lord."

Charles had never been more grateful to hear Erik's voice. Erik put a possessive hand on the small of his back, guiding him closer.

"My horseman," Apocalypse inclined his head, "when will you give this telepath to me?"

"Charles," Erik drew him flush against his side, "Is mine."

Charles' could feel Apocalypse's displeasure. It sent something small and fearful within him scurrying for cover. Erik, however, showed no sign of fear. His eyes were cold and unyielding, his countenance as unwavering as the metal he had ripped from the earth.

"When you tire of him," Apocalypse' eyes settled on Charles, cold and merciless, "he is mine." He turned away, the crowd parting before him.

Charles made to pull away. Erik's arm tightened around him, "Do not leave my side." When Charles' shot him an irritable look Erik's lips twitched upward, "It's not safe, _pet_."

Charles nodded, rubbing at his arms. The tunic he wore was white, small crystals sewn into the cloth so it glittered in the light like tiny stars. The sleeves were long, cut down the middle in a heavy swath of cloth to reveal his arms. His hands were covered in white silken gloves. His pants, which he liked least of all, were skintight and white as well. Even his boots, made of supple leather, where white.

"All I'm missing is a tiara," Charles had joked when Hank had finished helping him dress (there were so many laces, Charles would never have been able to get into it himself).

"Almost," Hank replied cordially, lifting a thick wooden box embroidered with silver from the chair. He flicked it open with ease, though it must have been heavier than Charles, and lifted from it a delicate silver mask encrusted with small white gems.

"Diamonds," Hank caught Charles' look. The edges around the eyes and the borders of the mask were all silver, but if they had been on earth the mask would have been priceless.'

"Drink nothing."

"What?" Charles blinked, drawn from the memory.

"Drink and eat nothing," Erik squeezed his waist tightly, "Especially if it is given to you."

Charles eyed the opulent table across the room, laden with treats. Servers whisked platters of delicacies and wine throughout the room, offering it to anyone who looked interested, "Why?"

"Because," Erik glanced down at him, his eyes unreadable through his stark silver mask, "I told you so."

Charles huffed, his irritation giving him just enough courage to push Erik's arm from his waist, "Then why am I here? Arm candy? A trophy for you to show off before you toss me to Apocalypse?"

"I thought you wanted to see the Royal world," Erik took a glass of wine from a passing server, downing it in one go.

Charles scowled, crossing his arms over his stomach, "I think you know that desire passed quite a long time ago."

Erik glanced down at him, "Really? You don't want to meet the ice queen, whose planet has been preserved immaculately for the last thousand years? Or the planet of fire, where the Royals there can quite literally destroy a human with a look? Or perhaps should I show you the planet of demons, where Azazel hails from?"

Charles shoved down the curiosity Erik's words provoked. "I want to return home, with my sister. But you took all of that away, didn't you? When you broke her neck."

Erik scoffed, "I won't apologize to you for killing an assassin."

"My _sister_." Charles retorted, "Her name was Raven."

"An assassin," Erik glared at him, "if you're going to give me this much grief, perhaps I should give you to Apocalypse. I'm sure he would be much more accommodating, right until the moment you are snuffed from existence." Erik leaned forward, eyes glittering, "Or perhaps you'll still be in there, silent and powerless, watching as he uses your mutation to decimate all that stands between him and ultimate, unquestioned power and control."

Charles looked away, rage and disgust a heavy pit in his stomach, "I want to leave."

"You'll do as your told," Erik's eyes glittered with anger, "and now, I'm going to introduce you to some other Royals, and you are going to smile and act like a pretty, witless thing."

"Of course, my lord," Charles bowed sarcastically.

"I am quite serious," Erik grabbed his arm, dragging him closer, "Royals see Others as stupid creatures. Play to that. If they suspect there is any form of intelligence in your mind, which I'm beginning to doubt, they will go to great lengths to remove you from the court. An intelligent Other is a risk to everything Apocalypse, the Royals, and the Eli—everyone else have worked to build. The whole caste system relies on the knowledge that we are the intelligent, the superior. The Royals will resist any challenge to that because it will make them face what they have done in the light of morality."

"And you?" Charles jerked his arm from Erik's grasp, "Do you see the horrors you have done in the light of morality?" Honesty how was he still alive? Charles winced as he heard his own words, marveling that Erik hadn't yet ripped his tongue out.

"Those on the surface are nothing, humans are nothing, those who seek to bring us down are nothing," Erik touched Charles' chin, his eyes softening, "but you, Charles, are not nothing. You are better than all the people here."

Charles glanced around the room. Thankfully, everyone was fixated on the entertainment and had spared them no attention, "And how do you know that?"

Erik smiled but didn't answer. His eyes seemed suddenly very old, and sad.

"Erik, darling, is this your new pet I've been hearing so much about?" In an instant, Erik's eyes were hard again, all trace of emotion gone. A woman stopped in front of them, resplendent in a glittering gown of what Charles was sure was…flexible diamond?

"The cloth is made from thousands of strands of silver and diamond," She sighed, pulling her white fur shawl closer around her arms, "an impossibility to someone like you, a triviality to someone like me." Charles could feel her thoughts, intelligent and alive but unreadable, pressing against his mind.

"Emma, a pleasure," Erik inclined his head just enough to pass for a greeting, "Charles, Emma is a telepath like you. I mentioned her planet before, the one preserved in ice."

"For the last thousand years," Emma sipped her wine, "my late husband devoted his every waking moment to it. It made me rich enough to paralyze it when he died. A tribute, if you may."

"A tribute?" Charles swallowed nervously, not liking the expression on her face. Like Erik, her mind was impenetrable.

"To my hatred for him." Emma lowered her glass, smiling with sadistic pleasure. "It would have destroyed him to see it as it now is. Perfect. Lifeless."

"The bitch is vengeful," A tall, hairy man stinking of alcohol and tobacco stepped up beside her, "and as loving as an icicle in bed." He downed his glass of wine, making a face.

"Logan," Emma tisked, "drunk already?"

"I was drunk before I arrived," The man eyed Charles, "didn't expect to see War's pet here."

Charles glanced at Erik. His face was expressionless, "Logan. A pleasure, as always."

"Lensherr," Logan sneered, "Forcing yourself on innocent humans now? I guess it's true what they say about turning into their fathers. But Shaw wasn't your father, was he? I forget."

Logan flew across the room, crashing into the wall. The performers stopped, Royals scattering. Logan strained against Erik's power, long metal claws slowly sliding from his clenched fists.

Erik's stepped closer, his eyes narrowed with hate. "I will rip your bones from your body," He snarled.

"Go ahead," Logan sneered, "I'll be healed by tomorrow."

Logan roared with pain. Charles stared. Silver began to show through the Royal's forearms and skull.

"My lord."

Erik glanced down at the blue servant who had prostrated himself against the floor, "What is it?"

The servant glanced up nervously, "You told me to tell you…the Royals…Moira…they're here."

Erik dropped his hand, sending Logan crashing to the floor, "Did you summon them, Logan?" He paced across the floor, kneeling next to him "Did you think they could stop me?" He leaned forward, "Another time then, _guardian_." He rose, stalking from the room. Charles followed, glancing back nervously. Logan met his eyes, rubbing blood from his forearms. Charles looked away, but he could have sworn he'd seen a spark of…something in the Royals eyes.

Erik threw himself down on the couch as soon as they entered his quarters, filling a goblet of wine with a flick of his fingers. Charles stood by the doorway, disliking the idea of being anywhere close to someone who he was more and more certain was a sociopath. "Can I go to my room?"

"What?" Erik glanced up, "Oh. Do what you like." He flicked his fingers, the front door locking with a click.

Charles hurried toward his room, only releasing his breath when the bedroom door was shut behind him. He threw himself down on the bed, peeling off the mask with a relieved sigh.

What the hell was going on?

 _ **A/N:**_ ** _Dun dun duunnnnnn! What's the deal with Logan and Erik? Do they hate each other so much canonically their loathing simply transcends the AU's? What did Erik mean by calling him a guardian? Who is Moira and what was up with the blue servant and Erik's slip of the tongue? In any case, I hope you have a wonderful holiday break!_**


	6. Erik Meets The Two People He Hates Most

_**A/N:**_ ** _Here's the next chapter! So...big plot twist...I was actually super nervous about this but I hope you guys will like it :)._**

 _Charles peeled off his heavy shirt, dragging Erik closer across the bed to slant their mouths together._

 _"_ _Are you sure?" Erik pushed him back onto the bed, "Cain will be furious."_

 _Charles reached up, dragging him down into a wet, hungry kiss, "Fuck Cain."_

 _Erik snorted, "Not exactly what I was thinking, highness."_

Charles opened his eyes, wincing as the lights flickered on. They must have sensed the increase in his heartbeat or some such bullshit. His clothes rustled as he sat up, the crystals flickering in the light. He must have forgotten to take them off before he fell asleep. For a moment Charles stared at them considered what is life would be like if he was a Royal, if that dream, likely a byproduct of the ridiculous opulence of the party, could come true. Cain, Charles step-father and the resident family asshole (dead asshole, as far as Charles knew), was no Royal, though it could be argued that he possessed the dickishness of one of them. But if they had been Royals…If Charles had no mortality, had been raised in wealth, could he have been attracted to Erik, and Erik to him in return?

Charles pushed the thought aside with a snort of disgust. He did have morality, and Erik was a sociopath. Charles was simply struggling from a year and a half without sex (courtesy of Erik and Apocalypse, by the way).

He pushed himself off the bed, hissing as more lights flickered on, accompanied by a soft thud. He paused, glancing around. The sound of muffled voices echoing through the walls. Charles frowned, catching something that sounded suspiciously like his own name. He hurried to the door, throwing it open.

"I told you, he's mine by law!" Erik roared, drowning out a soft, feminine voice.

"My lord!" The indignant female voice rose above him, "Charles Xavier is a member of the Elite! You have no right to him!"

Charles walked down the hallway curiously. Elite? He'd never heard of such a title before.

"Get off this ship," Erik's snarled, his voice low and threatening.

"Lord Lensherr." Charles could see her now, a petite brunette dressed in plain white robes, clutching a tablet in her hands, "Charles Xavier is the last of the Xavier line, presumed _dead—"_

"This mortal is a recurrence, nothing more," Erik was blocking the hallway, his fists clenched, "You'll pay for this, Logan."

"A simple genetic check will ensure he is the true Xavier heir," The woman clicked what looked like a pen in irritation. Logan stood behind her, almost obscured from Charles' view by the hallway wall.

"What are you talking about?"

Charles' voice took all of them by surprise. Erik turned around, his expression furious with a touch of something else, something that looked almost like fear, "Go back to your room."

"Lord Xavier you do not have to listen to another word he says!" The woman yelled, standing on her tiptoes to talk over Erik's arm.

"Just because Charles slept with you once, Moira—" Erik turned on her.

"You are not above the law!"

"A filthy Other like you would never win a case—"

"You know that's not true! Charles is _Elite!_ "

"What are you talking about?" Charles' cut off what he was sure would be a racist, biting, retort on Erik's part.

Erik glared at Moira. Moira scowled back.

"You're Charles Xavier," Logan answered for them when it became apparent neither would speak, "the last of the Xavier lineage. I recognized you as soon as I saw you at Erik's side. In the caste system of the royal families, you are second to none, equal to few. We believed you were dead. Erik—" Logan glared at Erik, "—allowed me to believe I had failed in my duty to protect you, and that you had been killed by Other's when you went to the planet's surface."

"He was killed," Erik snarled, "this human is a _recurrence."_

"He's very alike to the old Charles, more than one would expect with a recurrence." Moira clicked her pen, "Now move, or I will involve the other Elite."

Erik scowled at her, then glanced back at Charles. Charles arched an eyebrow, trying to hide how his mind was spinning. Moira ducked under Erik's arm before he could stop her, stalking down the hallway. She seized Charles' arm, pushing her pen into his skin. Charles hissed in sudden pain, but it was gone by the time Moira moved her pen. It beeped, her tablet glowing with a familiar X.

"I told you," She raised her tablet, "and that was recorded to the database. Everyone now knows Charles Xavier is alive."

Erik glanced back at Charles, his eyes sharp with anger, and…desperation? "I was only trying to respect your wishes. You made them abundantly clear."

"My wishes?" Charles stared at him, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you everything, I promise," Moira tucked her pen into her shirt, "come with me, I'll take you home."

"Stay here," Erik held his hands up, "please Charles—"

Charles silenced him with an acidic glare, "Let's go."

"You must be very confused," Moira handed Charles a cup of tea, "tell me what you know." They were on a small ship, headed to…well, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were moving away from Erik.

"I've lived on Earth all of my life, before and after Erik happened to it." Charles sipped his tea. _Royals_. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even the tea was perfect. "My sister, Raven, we lived together, until Erik—" He stopped, a wave of grief nearly overtaking him.

"He killed her?" Moira touched his hand gently, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Charles smiled tightly, taking a deep breath, "Erik took me as his…pet? I think that was the vernacular used. I sure felt like one. Then you showed up, and…said I was a recurrence?"

"Yes," Moira cleared her throat, putting her tablet down on the table, "and Erik said you were a recurrence, not me, though I doubt he believes it. Every so often, someone is born with a genetic twin having lived somewhere else in the universe. It's called a recurrence, and it happens very rarely. Their behaviors are very different, their appearances can vary based on the environment…" She waved her hand as if to dispel something, "I tested your blood, both for environmental and genetic factors, and found no trace of you being a recurrence. I believe…" She hesitated, "Well, I believe you are the real Charles Xavier. I should probably explain what that means."

"Please," Charles sipped his tea, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

"Like I said before, the Xavier family is of great power and import, more than Apocalypse even. He's…a minor lord compared to what is really out there." Moira tapped her tablet nervously, "He's a Royal. You are Elite. When I knew you, your family was still alive: Cain, your mother, and Raven, your adopted sister and guardian. Logan is also your guardian. They were assigned to keep you safe. Your step-father, Cain, and you did not get along, so when you came of age you ran off with Raven and…" She paused, cheeks flushing, "well, that's when we met. I think you met Erik around that time as well. He's…complicated. I don't know all the details of his past. You took a liking to him, I don't know why. You had…have an empathy most Royals couldn't comprehend and Erik…well, I'm sure you know by now how far his empathy extends. To keep Cain from stealing your fortune, and I think because you two were in love, you married Erik. He fell in league with Apocalypse and almost killed Shaw not long after. I don't know what happened next, or where your memories have gone. Erik told us that after he destroyed Earth for Apocalypse, you went down to the surface to try and help the humans there and they killed you." Moira paused, "I'm sorry, I know this must be very confusing. I can only guess you…wiped your own memory somehow. In any case, we need to get you to the hall of records to retrieve your…well, everything. Your wealth, title, family name. I doubt Erik has touched any of it. He's lived with Apocalypse the entire time since you disappeared."

Charles head was pounding again, quick and intense like a heartbeat.

He was married. To Erik. He was a Royal, better than a Royal. Apocalypse wasn't the biggest, most powerful being in the universe? Why hadn't Erik told him? What had he meant about respecting Charles' wishes?

"Still overthinking things, X-man." Logan sat down next to him, patting his shoulder, "Give it time."

"Erik—" Charles began.

"We'll deal with that when you're feeling better," Logan sighed, "if you want to deal with that at all, that is. As far as I'm concerned, you're better off without that fucker."

Charles touched his arm, "He put a tracker in my arm—"

"Of course he did," Moira sighed, taking out her pen, "Where?"

Charles gestured to his forearm. She pressed her pen to the skin. Charles grimaced in pain, grabbing his arm. Blood welled under her pen. Moira removed it, a small metal bar attached to the end, "You don't belong to anyone any more. We can file for a legal divorce while we're at the hall of records if you like, though it may take some work."

Charles sighed, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his hands, "Do you have a bed somewhere I could use? I…I just need some time to process this."

"Of course," Moira smiled, "down the hall. Logan will show you."

Logan got to his feet, "Come on X-man."

Charles sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He followed Logan from the main room, into a small hallway with three doors. It was nothing like Erik's lavish quarters, and Charles took comfort in it.

"I'm glad you're alive," Logan clapped his shoulder, almost sending him to the floor, "and that we were able to pry you from Lensherr's grasp. Thought he was going to try and rip my bones from my body again when I showed up with Moira."

Charles shuddered, "I can't believe anyone would find him attractive, let alone me. He's a monster, Logan."

"That's what I said when you first started boning him," Logan pushed open the door to a small bedroom, "glad we're on the same page now." He glanced around, "Night, Charles."

Charles slumped down on the bed as Logan closed the door. He was still dressed in the gala clothes, having fallen asleep in them. Bad manners, Cain would have said, and then he'd have beaten Charles within an inch of his life. Or maybe not, though why Charles would use his powers to give himself memories of fake trauma was beyond him. Then again, most of this was beyond him.

He was married to Erik.

It certainly explained how Erik had been able to pick him out in the crowd, how he'd known how to block Charles out.

Why had he killed Raven? And why had she tried to kill Apocalypse? And if she'd known about Charles, why would she have brought him to the party?

Charles scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning in frustration. None of it made sense.

 _"_ _Descent with modification."_

 _"_ _What?" Erik paused, Charles shirt halfway unbuttoned._

 _"_ _Natural Selection," Charles gestured to Earth below them, "it's made humans what they are. They give birth, and their children give birth, each one different than the other, and if they're lucky to have a useful mutation, the mutation will spread."_

 _Erik gave a long suffering sigh, "I told you not to go to the library just before bed."_

 _"_ _Should I tell you about naturalistic fallacy?"_

 _"_ _I swear to all that exists Charles—" Erik gave a muffled curse, returning to unbuttoning his shirt._

 _"_ _The male provisioning hypothesis? Sexual Selection?"_

 _Erik straightened, "Does it explain why I selected you? Because I'm seriously questioning my sanity at the moment."_

 _"_ _No," Charles sighed, sitting back on the bed, his eyes twinkling, "It just says that women go for men focused on parenting, fidelity, and security."_

 _"_ _And men?" Erik tilted his head to the side._

 _"_ _If they have the resources, quantity over quality."_

 _"_ _Sleeping around on me, Charles? Because this is not a good way to tell me."_

 _Charles laughed, dragging Erik forward into a kiss, "I promise not to go to the library anymore before bed."_

 _"Good," Erik growled, peeling his shirt from his shoulders._

 ** _A/N: So. Charles and Erik were married. Charles is an Elite, and more powerful than Apocalypse. Secrets abound. Hope you guys are having a wonderful holiday season :)_**


	7. Erik Takes Preemptive Action

_**A/N:**_ ** _Hello! So this chapter is a more longish one, I think. As always if someone grows an extra limb or is in two places at once, let me know :)_**

"—License of Elite Birth, Family Title, Noble Title, Seal of Enlightenment, Seal of Familial Birth—"

Charles watched Moira's fingers fly across the screen of her tablet as the clerk spoke.

"—Honorary Title of Nobility, Tertiary Title of Nobility, Given Title of Nobility—"

Logan caught the look on Charles' face and laughed.

"Be grateful you didn't marry into the family," He patted Charles back, "Erik's got twice the paperwork."

Charles would have been amused at the thought of Erik standing in the neon-lit hallway, frustration clear on his face as the clerk listed off the things needed to access the Elite account, but a sharp throb of pain drove the thought from his mind. It was good Moira was helping him. If he had to focus on anything, he was quite sure his brain might turn to mush in his skull.

"—password?"

Moira paused, "I thought we'd agreed to forego the password, due to his condition."

"Do you have a telepath's note?"

Moira scowled, "Charles Xavier _is_ a telepath."

The clerk scrolled through her tablet, "It wouldn't matter anyway. Password was changed by one Erik Lensherr a year ago. I'm afraid you'll have to contact him to retrieve it."

Moira gritted her teeth, "Look, how long have you known me Airo?"

The clerk pushed her glasses up her face, "Are you asking for a favor?"

"Please," Moira smiled regretfully.

The clerk glanced around the office area, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I want the scoop on you-know-who."

Moira's smile sagged slightly, "Alright then."

The clerk giggled, typing something into her tablet, "Congratulations, Lord Xavier, you are officially alive." She passed him a tablet like Moira's, "This will give you access to your accounts. For an annulment of marriage, go to the desk five doors down."

Moira sighed with relief, gesturing for Charles to go ahead of her, "She's had a crush on my co-worker for years."

Charles smiled, "Thank you for everything, Moira. I would still be with Erik without you."

She hesitated, glancing at Logan, "Charles, I must warn you. Erik won't release you easily, and divorce for the elite is a messy business. He will have to sign the papers, which knowing Erik he will not do willingly, and the other Elite won't be able to resist sticking their nose where it doesn't belong and try to garner favor with the one they think will win the Xavier lineage's power. It might be best to…simply let it go. You are the Master of the House…" She glanced at Charles, "That is, you have most of the power, as the born Elite."

Charles swallowed, glancing down at his hands, "Do you know why I married him in the first place? He seems very…sociopathic."

Logan barked with laughter behind him, "I'm pretty sure it was because of his skill with his—"

"Logan!" Moira whacked him with her tablet, "Ignore him. Erik has his good qualities…I mean, I've never seen them, but I'm sure you did at some point!" She offered him a too-wide smile.

Charles forced one of his own, "Well I don't see them now. As soon as I can get a divorce, we should. I don't want him to have any tie to me."

Moira nodded slowly, glancing at Logan. He crossed his arms over his chest, nodding once. "Alright then." Moira tucked her tablet under her arm, "This way." She led them down the hall, toward a dusty looking door hidden in a corner of the hallway. She pushed it open, "Excuse me? Is anyone here?"

"What do you want?" A heavily accented voice answered. Charles stepped inside, glancing around. A slender, dark haired man eyed them from beside the desk. Behind it sat a scruffy looking elderly man. Charles' heart immediately went out to him, he looked quite put-upon.

"We're here for an annulment of the marriage between Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier," Moira announced, glaring at the dark-haired man. He was quite well-dressed, and Charles would have mistaken him for a Royal except for the hungry look in his eye. He'd known starvation, desperation, fear, and would do anything to never know it again. Moira took Charles tablet, slipping it under her arm protectively, "Perhaps you can take word of that to your master, Janos."

"I serve no one," Janos examined his finger nails, "but as it was, Lensherr did ask me to come here and ensure his…belongings were protected."

"Belongings?" Charles snapped indignantly.

"I see," Moira said reservedly, as if she expected nothing else, "I assume then, that we will have to file a breach of protocol?"

Logan growled behind them, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You will," Janos' smiled thinly, "isn't that right?" He glanced down at the elderly man.

"Indeed," The man sighed, "You Elite. Coming in here and threatening things and mucking about my business. I haven't had a fair bit of decency in this room since before Earth was born!" He glared at all of them, "Now out!"

Moira turned on her heel, stalking from the room. Charles followed her warily, Logan behind him, "Who was that?"

"Janos." Logan growled, "Emma's _consort._ Erik helped him secure the position. They have a symbiotic relationship."

Charles glanced at him, surprised Logan knew the word symbiotic, not to mention used it.

"What?" Logan shrugged, "I listened to your prattle occasionally."

Charles wondered just how often he gave those lectures. Erik seemed to have heard enough of them, if the memories Charles had managed to recall were any indication. "What is a breach of protocol?" He caught Moira's arm.

"Since Erik has already threatened the Keeper of Vows to silence," Moira spun around, eyes narrowed angrily, "we'll need to provide evidence that he has harmed or wronged you in some way."

"Well that shouldn't be hard," Charles muttered, "he inserted that metal tracker in my arm against my will and threatened me almost constantly into submission, as well as kept my identity a secret."

"Harmed or wronged by the rules of the Elite, not earth," Logan shook his head, "much harder. They're beliefs and morals are much more…loose"

"Can't we just throw money at the marriage keeper until he gets over his fear?" Charles asked desperately, "Isn't that what the Elite do? What's the point of all this wealth if it can't free me?"

Moira glanced at Logan, "I don't think you understand. Erik is feared by Royal and Elite alike. He destroyed a planet with only his mutation. No one else has done that in the history of your kind. Very few will dare cross him for you."

"You really know how to pick 'em, X-man," Logan grinned, earning a sharp glare from Moira.

"Come on," Moira squeezed Charles shoulder, "let me take you somewhere safe."

 _Charles squinted at the page, the elegant calligraphy blurring before his eyes. "You'd think a place with all the stored knowledge of the universe would have found a way to make math easier." The bed sheets were soft against his bare stomach, at contrast with the hard book under his hands._

 _Erik hummed, straddling Charles hips. He held his weight just above his back so he didn't crush Charles. He massaged Charles' shoulders gently, kissing his neck._

 _Charles hummed happily, "Keep that up, and I'll never be able to finish the accounting for tomorrows report."_

 _"_ _I'm sure," Erik nipped his ear lobe, "you can afford to take a break."_

 _"_ _I wish," Charles murmured, rolling onto his back. Erik watched him intently, his eyes heavy and dark against Charles bare skin, "But you know how the regulations office is. They require evidence that all my affairs are being conducted properly." He sat up, kissing Erik gently, "I suppose I could just use my powers to get inside the officer's head and convince him no evidence is needed of fiscal responsibility."_

 _Erik smiled, "You wouldn't."_

 _"_ _No," Charles smiled back, "I wouldn't."_

Charles opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling above his bed. These dreams, they were going to kill him. Even now, the thought of Erik brought warmth to his chest when it should have been fear or anger instead.

"Charles?" Moira knocked on the door, "I'm so sorry, we've been summoned to a meeting of the Elite. You cannot turn down the invitation to such a party without offense, and these are not people you want to offend. I've had some of your old clothes prepared for you."

Charles got up, opening the door, "What's a meeting of the Elite?"

Moira smiled, "A bunch of wolves circling each other, looking for weakness." She held out the pile of clothes, "Erik will likely not be there. The Elite hate him as much as he hates them. They use each other, but don't mistake it for care. House Grey, House Munroe, House Frost, and House Drake will be there. You can trust the first two, loosely, but the latter two will do anything to get under your skin. The rest of them…try to ignore them."

Charles took the clothes, feeling more out of his depth than ever, "I…alright. Thank you, Moira."

She smiled tightly, "I wish we had more time. I cannot overstate how careful we must be, Charles. Everyone has believed House Xavier to be extinct. For a group of Elite, you will be a shiny new toy, innocent and vulnerable."

Charles swallowed, "When do we arrive?"

Moira sighed, "Two hours. I'll help prep you."

Two hours later, Charles' was on his way to the party. His clothes were the softest he had ever touched, silver and blue in his house colors. He had a silver and diamond circlet on his head, and diamond earrings in his ears (apparently, he had never noticed they were pierced), and his face had far too much make up on it to be comfortable. On his hand, he had the official seal of house Xavier (an X, like he remembered, though certainly not in this context.) Charles took a deep breath, steeling his emotions. Just as long as Erik wasn't there. He could handle a pit of space vipers, but not Erik.

The doors of the shuttle opened, revealing an elegant room full of the Elite. The lights were low, leaning an ambiance to the clink of glass and soft murmur of voices. Charles walked into the room, Logan behind him. Moira wasn't allowed to come, another facet of this life which galled him. Apparently, the elite barely allowed Royals' like Logan into their company, never mind Others like her. It made his mind spin. For so long, the Royals had been the pinnacle of opulence and privilege in his mind. He could scarcely imagine something more powerful and grand than them.

"Dismissed, Logan."

A chill ran down Charles' spine. Erik stepped from the crowd, dressed in clothes so black they seemed to suck the light from the room.

"You don't get to dismiss me," Logan growled, drawing the attention of the people around them. The murmurs dulled to whispers.

"Yes, please stay," Charles smiled at Logan, drawing another cacophony of whispers, "Erik. I was told you wouldn't be here."

Erik tilted his head to the side, "I am a member of the Xavier House, just as you. And it would be remiss of me to miss my husband's own revival party."

A soft laugh rang through the room, "Erik, charming as ever." A woman stepped from the crowd. She was dressed in a red almost the same color as her hair. Her power surrounded her like a breathing halo, sending the air shivering, and the people around her cringing back. Only Erik and Logan seemed immune. Charles welcome the soft brush of her mind in greeting. She held out her hand to Charles, "Jean Grey. I don't suppose you remember me."

"I'm sorry, I don't," Charles took her hand, pressing a kiss to it. That, at least, Moira had drilled into him in the last two hours, "It's a pleasure to meet another telepath."

She smiled warmly as he straightened, squeezing his hand, "Don't let Erik bother you, he's always been stuffy. Allow me to reintroduce you into society." She put an arm around his shoulder, leading Charles into the crowd. To Charles annoyance, Erik followed them, standing at Charles' opposite side. Jean ignored him, instead taking Charles from group to group, introducing him to each house leader.

"This is Lord Drake," She gestured to a tall, thickly built man, "Their planet is completely frozen. They have evolved to survive by turning to ice."

"How fascinating!" Charles smiled, keeping Moira's warning in mind. He could play at innocence. "I'd love to see it."

Lord Drake arched an eyebrow, "How unchanged you are. Unfortunately, dead or alive, you are banned from our planet, Lord Xavier."

"Oh?" Charles hid his annoyance, he _had_ wanted to see the planet, "Why?"

"You encouraged their second son to marry into the Pryde family," Jean tisked, "quite the downgrade for him, but I'm told he's quite happy."

"Ah," Charles hesitated, at a loss for how to react, "I see."

Lord Drake sipped his wine, "Indeed."

Erik muffled a snort.

Lord Drake arched an eyebrow, "Something to say, Lensherr?"

Erik's eyes narrowed, "It's Lord Lensherr, Drake. Don't forget, I still have Xavier's resources at my disposal."

"Not for long though," Emma laughed, stepping into the group. Janos stood beside her, looking bored, "I hear Moira's filing for breach of protocol."

Erik snorted, "Or perhaps Charles should follow in your steps and simply murder me."

Emma laughed again, the tinkling sound cold and humorless, "Please. We all know Charles Xavier has too much… _morality_ , to do such a thing." She said morality the same as the other Elite spoke of the Others.

"In any case!" Jean Grey steered Charles to the next social circle, Erik in tow, "Let me introduce you to House Munroe. Ororo was so thrilled that you've returned!"

"Who?" Charles asked delicately.

"Oh, Lord Xavier!" A woman with steely grey hair laughed, "I heard you've forgotten everything. We're friends, I promise." She held out her hand, "Call me Storm. That's your nickname for me after I accidently nearly killed Erik."

Charles mind was aching by the time Jean led him to the refreshments table. In everyone's mind he could see memories of himself, laughing, arguing, and in more than a few in very indecent situations. Apparently, he'd gotten around. It fit with his memories of college. He'd gotten around at Oxford more than he cared to admit, or thought he had.

"Now," Jean handed Charles a glass of wine, "Allow me to take you to my home planet, you can bring Moira and Logan of course. I know you'll absolutely love it—'

"I'm afraid Charles is coming with me," Erik calmly interceded.

"No, I'm not," Charles stepped away from Erik. Jean squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Lord Xavier is the Master of the House—" Logan cut in.

"I am aware of the rules," Erik tucked his hands behind his back, "and I challenge Lord Xavier for that position."

The room went deadly quiet, Erik's words loud and ringing in the silence. The minds of the Elite were spinning with rage that someone lower than them—apparently Erik was an Elite through marriage but had formerly been an Other before Charles had found him—would dare try to assume mastery over someone from an Elite house. Apparently Master of the House meant everyone had to do what you say, and that you got control over finances and the like. If it was anyone but Erik, Charles would have given them the title willingly. But this was Erik, and if Jean mental directions were clear, he had to fight Erik himself, or appoint someone else to fight him. From the underlacings of fear he could feel throughout the room, any person he chose to fight for him would be subjected to a death sentence.

Charles looked a Logan. His claws were already bared. "Appoint me, Charles, I'll rip his throat out."

Charles glanced at Logan's metal claws, recalled the last time Logan and Erik had gotten into a confrontation. "Erik," He looked at Erik, "this is not what you want. Forcing me to do this—"

"You do not know what I want," Erik's expression was unreadable, "don't pretend you can read my mind, Charles. I learned to keep you out a long time ago."

His words sent a spike of pain through Charles' chest, like remembered trauma with no base in memory. Charles straightened, "There is no need for this."

"I think there is," Erik raised his hand, curling his fingers into a fist. Logan cried out in pain, sinking to the floor. The Elite watched, nothing in their eyes as Logan's screams filled the room.

"Stop, Stop it!" Charles grabbed Erik's arm, "Please. There's no need. I'll relinquish the title willingly."

A rustle went through the room.

"Charles," Jean murmured beside him, her tone warning.

"Do you actually believe there is anyone I could throw against Erik that could stop him?" Charles glanced at her, releasing Erik's arm, "You have your money and power, now leave."

"Charles, no," Logan groaned beside him, "you can't."

"I'll be fine," Charles bent down beside him, "Are you alright?"

Logan glared up at Erik, "I'll kill you."

Erik arched an eyebrow, "Another word and I'll rip what's left of your skeleton from your body."

Charles got to his feet, eyes narrowed bitterly, "Go."

"You're coming with me," Erik stepped forward.

"I think not." Ororo stepped in front of Charles, lightning crackling at her fingertips warningly, "Charles claims the Right of Safety, don't you Charles? Or did you forget, there is still a breach of protocol filed against you."

Charles mind was spinning. Did the complicated rules of the royals ever cease? Whatever it was, it sounded good, "I do."

Erik's eyes narrowed, the metal cutlery rattling throughout the room, "I could just _take_ him."

"Yes, but then you'll have to deal with breaking the elite law," Jean spoke up behind them.

"It's alright," Lord Drake drawled from across the room, "Don't worry, Lensherr, I'll help you contest this. You'll have Charles back in a few days." Charles could feel the smugness radiating from his mind, the darkness behind it.

"Indeed," Erik glanced from Ororo to Jean, his eyes cold and furious, "A few days, Charles. Keep Moira and your pet," He nodded to Logan, "out of my way, else there will be no mercy for any of you."

He walked past Charles, his shoulder slamming into Logan's as he passed.

"Prick," Jean muttered under her breath, "honestly Charles, what on earth possessed you to marry him?"

"I have no idea," Charles turned to them, "Thank you. I have no idea what you just did, but I appreciate it." He put a hand on Logan's shoulder, "Are you alright?"

Logan waved him off, "You should have let me kill him."

Charles smiled tightly. Jean interceded quickly, "The Right of Safety allows you to stay with another Elite while the breach of protocol is being examined. It's to protect each other from spousal abuse. You can stay with me. You'll be safe"

"Oh," Charles closed his eyes, "Thank you."

Logan growled under his breath, "Come on. Moira will not be pleased."

 ** _A/N: Dun dun duunnn! I've always had this characterization of Erik in my head where's he's so stubbornly an asshole he just refuses to actually be a decent person, like he knows what he wants and he'll pick the most asshole way to get there purely on principle, or because he hates everyone but Charles. Poor Logan man, he's trying so hard. What did you think of the Elite ball? Moira's office romance? Erik's positive qualities? Emma and Janos? I'm actually an Azazel/Janos shipper, so...idk XD_**


	8. Erik Teams Up With Someone He Hates

"These will be your rooms," the blank-faced servant bowed, leaving Charles standing in the middle of a long, dark hallway. Everything on the Grey ship was made with a dark, obsidian stone. It reminded Charles of Apocalypse's ship.

"You alright, X-Man?" Logan patted his shoulder, "Don't worry. We won't let Erik get to you."

 _"How could you do this?"_

Charles blinked, walking to the end of the hallway where a long, wall to wall window stood. He stared out at the vast expanse of space, his mind aching.

 _"Stop, Charles! You'll bring the building down on top of us!"_

 _Charles was in Erik's mind, watching the destruction of Earth as if he had done it himself. The walls rumbled as he seized control of Erik's power, ripping the metal from the walls._

 _"You did this!"_

The scream ripped through his mind, bringing with it a wave of terror and anguish that threatened to extinguish him. Charles shivered, his eyes flickering shut.

"Come on," Logan pushed him forward, toward what Charles assumed was the bedroom, "it's not that bad. You get to live with the privilege of the most privileged. You're practically a god."

 _Erik shoved him against the wall. Charles panted, staring at him with wild eyes. Anger burned in his gut, anger, and devastation._

 _"I did what I had to," Erik's eyes were just as wild as his, "You know that."_

 _"Billions of people," Charles' eyes burned with tears, "you killed them. You killed them all. I want you out."_

 _Erik stepped back, releasing him. Charles fell back against the wall, catching himself before he hit the ground. Erik glowered at Charles, his hands curling into fists, "You know they had to die. Don't live in the past, Charles."_

 _"Out!" Charles screamed, "Out before I tear your mind apart!"_

Charles closed his eyes, "I need rest, Logan."

"Of course, X-Man. Take all the time you need." Logan stepped back, heading for the door.

"Logan."

He stopped.

"Do you know why Erik destroyed Earth?"

Logan hesitated, "Charles…"

"Tell me."

Logan sighed, "Erik was from Earth," he hesitated again, as if choosing his words carefully, "he was convinced they all needed to die. I don't know why."

Charles nodded, "Thank you."

Logan left without another word.

 _A metal chair, blood splattered across the floor. Knives lined the walls. Glass separated the room from a cordial study._ _Charles could barely look at it. "Is this your mind, Erik?"_

Charles winced, putting a hand to his head. It ached, as if strained. He considered, just for a moment, using his power to explore, to try and see what it was he had forgotten; if he'd made himself forget in the first place, though, maybe it was better not to remember.

"Turn on the lights."

Charles started as the lights flickered on.

"It's not good to dwell in the dark," Jean smiled, "Come with me, Charles." She turned, leading him down another dark hallway, into a large, circular room. She gestured for him to sit on a black sofa, settling down next to him, "You're going through so much. I can see it in your mind."

Charles reached for a jug of wine and two cups. Jean shook her head, signaling she wanted none. He sighed, pouring himself a cup.

"Do you want to retrieve your memories? Together we surely could." Jean arched an eyebrow.

"Some things are probably better left forgotten," Charles sipped the wine, luxuriating in the bitter taste, "Do you know why I married Erik?"

"Oh, Charles," Jean sighed, "I suppose no one has given you a straight answer for it. I promise you loved him. Erik, for all his flaws, loves you deeply. Like all humans, his love is easily confused with other things. He hid his desire for vengeance under the pretense of keeping you safe, he hides his desire to keep you with him under the same. He tells himself you will be safer with him, and that you being safe matters more than your happiness, than your freedom. Erik…" Jean swallowed, "Erik has the ability to rationalize anything to himself."

Charles closed his eyes, "How will I break free of him?"

Jean tilted her head to the side, "You must provide evidence the court cannot refute. Erik is War, the destroyer of worlds, they will not go against him unless they have no choice."

"I have a memory," Charles looked down at his wine, "sort of. I told him to get out."

Jean tapped her fingers against the sofa, "I'll have Jean put the court date off for as long as possible while we search."

Charles swallowed the last of the wine, "It will not be long enough."

Jean nodded, "Go to sleep, Charles. Perhaps you'll remember something else in the morning we can use."

 _A thick-walled building greeted his gaze, cold and poverty-stricken, but home all the same._

Charles' eyes flickered open. He sat up from the bed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. What was that? It didn't feel like anything from his own mind. He got to his feet, the air cool against his skin. Charles wrapped the sheet around himself, wandering through the hallway. He stopped, at last, at a pool. It was long and luxurious. The water steamed as a small waterfall spilled into it from the ceiling. Charles dropped the sheet, slipping into the water.

 _"Haven't you ever gone swimming before?" Charles laughed, splashing Erik with water. Erik grinned, tackling him and nearly dragging him under._

 _"This is amazing, Charles," His smile was too wide, almost shark-like._

 _Charles smiled, kissing him, "I'm glad you think so."_

 _Erik's smile fell slightly, "Is Shaw enjoying something like this?"_

 _"Shaw?" Charles ran his fingers through Erik's wet hair, "Well, he's a Royal. I imagine so."_

 _Erik's smile vanished. He slipped back, sinking into the water, "He has to be stopped, Charles."_

 _"I will press charges, my love," Charles could feel Erik's grief, sharp and intense against his own emotions, "I will stop him."_

 _"Stop him?" Erik looked at Charles, anger bright in his eyes, "Stopping him is not enough. While he is alive, Shaw will find a way to torture, to harm, to kill. He needs to die."_

 _"Die?" Charles shook his head, "I'm sorry, my friend, Shaw is a Royal. Even someone like me couldn't kill him, not with Frost backing him."_

 _Erik moved to the edge of the pool, standing and running his fingers through his hair. Charles stood as well, "Erik, what are you going to do?"_

 _Erik glanced down at him, "Shaw cannot be allowed to live."_

 _"Listen to me, my love," Charles cupped his cheeks in his hands, "killing Shaw will not bring you peace. Let him face the justice of the Elite."_

 _Erik touched Charles' hands, lowering them from his face, "There will never be justice for Shaw, not while he lives."_

Charles opened his eyes. Moira stood in front of him, eyes sad. "What is it?" He swam forward, grasping the edge of the pool.

"I'm so sorry, Charles," Moira held out her tablet, "Erik and Drake have filed an order to move the date up. I tried to stop it, but they have the combined forces of two elite houses, and Jean can only do so much. The hearing is tomorrow."


End file.
